


A Break in Tradition

by incogneat_oh



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Gen, minor descriptions of injury, outsider pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-05
Updated: 2017-02-05
Packaged: 2018-09-22 04:48:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9584240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/incogneat_oh/pseuds/incogneat_oh
Summary: Gordon had seen something when he caught the canary yellow cape out the corner of his eye– something in the way the kid had moved. So he figures he should ask, “You doing okay up there, son?”AKA: The one where Jim Gordon minds a tiny vigilante until his bigger, scarier partner can collect him.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Ломая традиции](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4567431) by [timmy_failure](https://archiveofourown.org/users/timmy_failure/pseuds/timmy_failure)



Gordon takes in the scene from the centre– the flashing lights of the GCPD cruisers, a couple precautionary ambulances, some cops and a bunch of crooks. The crooks, groaning and zip-tied, are being led away to the paddy wagon. A uniformed officer tries to give him a report, but Gordon shrugs it off, distracted.  
  
Because–  
  
–he thought he’d seen–  
  
It’s worth a try. He ducks under the police tape, dodges a few more cops and a paramedic or two. He’s too busy to talk to them. He goes into the mouth of the alleyway, eyes straining in the dark for any sign of what he’s looking for.  
  
He feels cheated, knowing the kid is in those garish colors and is still stealthy enough to remain undetected. And he sighs, because he doesn’t have a chance without cooperation and full disclosure.  
  
“Robin?”  
  
He takes a few steps, on the alert for any signs of movement. He’s hoping– “Thought I saw you head this way. Wondered if we could have a talk.”  
  
There is a pause that goes for a while, before there is a very very faint rustle. And a few meters above him, on an overhang of the building, is the kid. He peeks his head over the ledge, chin practically resting on a rung of the fire-escape. His whited-out lenses are wide.   
  
“Mister Gordon?” he says.  
  
“Hey there,” Gordon looks up, trying to make out the figure in the dark. Then, “You know, kid, once upon a time you might have startled me. But thanks to your senior partner, I like to think I’m better prepared.”   
  
He’s almost sure the kid’s lips twitched in a smile, but then, it is dark and he’s still pretty far away.  
  
So he tries, “Speaking of your senior partner. Is he around?”  
  
“He’s on his way.”  
  
Gordon takes a breath. He might be wrong, probably is, but he’d seen something when he caught the canary yellow cape out the corner of his eye– something in the way the kid had moved. So he figures he should ask, “You doing okay up there, son?”  
  
The boy wriggles forward a bit, peering down. “Wattaya mean, sir?” he asks. Trying for suspicious and only sounding confused.  
  
He may as well. “Are you hurt, Robin?” he asks, outright.  
  
A sound that’s probably annoyance, and, “I’ll be fine.”  
  
Gordon laughs gently. “Now see, that wasn’t a ‘no’.” He takes a few steps forward, tries to get a better look at the boy from down here. “You did amazing work back there. But I’ll bet at least one of those guys got in a lucky shot, otherwise you’d be long gone, am I right? And call me crazy, but if your big scary mentor isn’t here, I feel responsible for you.”  
  
Robin scoffs.  
  
“Don’t get me wrong. I know you can take care of yourself, but I’m not the kind of man to leave a kid alone and in pain, no matter how tough he is.” A pause, then, “Don’t make me ask again.”  
  
The kid’s head disappears and Gordon swallows a curse, waits.   
  
Then, after another rustle, the kid speaks. “I think I broke my arm,” he offers, voice betraying him for the first time.  
  
“Can you get down?”  
  
There’s a pause. “Is that a joke?”  
  
“We’ve got some paramedics out here. It’d be great if you’d let them check you out, just until Batman gets here.”  
  
The kid pokes his head back into view. He looks torn, hesitant beneath the mask.  
  
“They’ve got painkillers,” he tries.  
  
And Robin bites his lip. Before he can answer, Gordon speaks again; “I’d kind of like to discuss this with you at ground-level, Robin. Would you mind…?”   
  
He disappears again, gone for a few seconds before he swings himself over the ledge and around to the ladder screwed into the wall of the building. He hooks his feet around the sides, grips loosely with one arm (the other is cradled against his chest), and slides down most of the way. Towards the bottom, he releases the ladder and swings, dropping to a crouch a few feet in front of Gordon. He must be in pain, but he gives no indication– other than the absence of a more showy descent.  
  
As he straightens, Gordon says, “Is it just your arm?”  
  
“Yes sir,” he says, holding the offending limb close. “I– I don’t think Batman–”  
  
“I don’t think Batman wants you to be in pain for no good reason,” Gordon says, checking the boy up and down. He looks a little pale from the pain, a bruise forming on his jaw, but otherwise okay. “And if he does, then I’ve severely misjudged him.”  
  
“It’s not–” Robin starts, squirming. “I shouldn't– without him, I mean–”  
  
“Hey, kid?”  
  
“Mm?”  
  
“Do you trust me?”  
  
Robin eyes him warily. Batman must have spoken highly of him for the kid to even be considering the question, he thinks. Then he realises his mistake.  
  
“Not the identity stuff,” he clarifies, notes the way the kid relaxes almost immediately. “What I mean is, I know the paramedics here personally, and I trust them. But I’ll stick with you the whole time, won’t even let anyone talk to you until the Bat gets here, okay?”  
  
There is a pause while Robin considers this. “You don’t have to do that, sir.” He winces, slightly, at Gordon’s expression, then drops his shoulders. “Okay,” he concedes finally. He really is pale.  
  
Gordon smiles, says, “You’re a good kid, Robin.”   
  
And they fall into step, side by side. For a moment, Gordon is sure he sees Robin’s good arm twitch toward his, as though to take his hand– and there’s a wrinkle between his eyebrows as he stops himself. So he puts his hand on the boy’s bony shoulder and squeezes.   
  
Robin meets his gaze, looking faintly surprised. Then he quickly looks at the floor, smiling a little.  
  
–  
  
Batman is glowering. He takes a few short steps forward before Gordon intercepts him, blocking his way. Robin is slouched, sitting in the back of an ambulance a few feet away. His feet are trailing in the dirt, and he’s sagging against the interior of the vehicle.  
  
“He’s okay, Batman. He has a broken arm.”  
  
Batman glowers at Gordon.  
  
“He took down six guys, Batman. By himself,” Gordon says, a mix of misplaced pride and horror.    
  
“Any other injuries?” Batman grunts, ignoring the rest.  
  
“None that he’s told us about. I told the paramedics to splint his arm and give him painkillers. Otherwise, they haven’t touched him.” A pause. “It took me a while to convince him to accept our help. You got a stubborn kid over there.” Batman is looking past him, eyes on the sleepy-looking unfocussed vigilante behind him. So Gordon adds, “Tough as nails.”  
  
At that, Batman grunts his agreement, but Gordon thinks he catches a ghost of a smile.  
  
Then the caped crusader is walking past him, approaching the ambulance.   
  
Robin perks up when he sees him, a guilty start and a smile. The Batman ducks his head to meet the kid’s eye, says quietly, “Robin. Status report.”  
  
“Floaty,” the boy answers promptly. And then, smile spreading wider, “Hi, B.”  
  
“Mission report.”  
  
The kid gives a yawn, sagging back against the ambulance, says, “Mm. Successful.”  
  
“You went in without orders or backup.”  
  
“I stopped 'em,” he protests tiredly, trying to sit up straighter. “I did, you should of seen it.”  
  
Batman crouches a bit at the knee, and Gordon barely catches his next words, “You did good, Robin. But next time you might not be so lucky. And where does that leave me, hmm?”  
  
“Oops,” Robin agrees. “I’ll do better.” Even getting told off, he has a dreamy smile on his face that’s probably to do with the drugs pumped into his system.   
  
Batman sighs, apparently dropping the subject, says, “Arm up. No, other one.”  
  
The kid helpfully offers his uninjured arm, which Batman loops around his neck. Then he scoops the boy into his arms and turns around. Robin immediately cuddles into his chest like he’s some giant teddy bear, and Gordon has to close his mouth and try to look busy. (To be fair, there are only two cruisers here now, and a single ambulance, though the scene is still cordoned off.)  
  
“Sorry I got hurt,” Robin slurs, closing his eyes and resting his head on his mentor’s shoulder. The man starts to walk, slow at first in case it hurts the kid.  
  
“You should be,” Batman says, and do they know Gordon can hear them? Because coming from anyone else, he would swear that was a laugh. “It’s not your butt that’s gonna get kicked.”  
  
“I already said I was sorry,” Robin protests, words running together a bit. There’s a pause before he says, “My mouth feels funny.”  
  
“They gave you the good stuff, huh? Lucky the Commissioner was babysitting. Or you’d give up all our secrets.” And is that Batman  _teasing_ the kid? Winding him up?  
  
“Would not,” the boy pouts. Then, “Wait, is my mask still on?”  
  
“Yes, Robin.”  
  
“Oh good,” the boy says breathlessly. “For a second I couldn’t remember.” He adds, as an afterthought, “My head feels funny, B. But it doesn’t hurt.”  
  
“How’s your arm?”   
  
“Arm?” Robin says blankly. And then, right before they cross the line of police tape, Robin says, “Wait _wait_. I gotta say thanks to Mister Gordon!”  
  
And at that Gordon turns, feels briefly foolish for being caught out listening. But Robin sits up, black hair loose around his face and mussed on one side, and peers at him over Batman’s shoulder. “G'bye, Commish. Thanks.”  
  
Gordon smiles, acknowledges Batman’s faint nod. “Rest up, Robin.”  
  
The kid settles back comfortably into the Bat’s arms, says, “Okay, now we can go.”  
  
And Gordon can barely see them when he hears, “You holding on tight?” and holy cow, Batman’s mostly dropped the growl, just sounds like some faintly worried, slightly amused and  _very stern_  dad.  
  
He hears Robin’s voice pipe, “Uh-huh!” and then a rush of compressed air from a grapple gun. Batman’s next words are snatched away by the wind, but he hears, very clearly, Robin’s responding giggle.  
  
Gordon, feeling as though he’s just witnessed a rare phenomenon, just shakes his head and tries to keep from smiling too wide. (At least not in front of the uniforms.)  
  
 **-THE END-**


End file.
